


The Moment You Doubt

by Avatar_Vyakara



Series: Archetypes and Abominations [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Backstory, Dark Magic, Del Bar, F/F, F/M, Foundling, Growing Old, Growing Up, It’s more background Rayllum but still there, Katolis, Viren Tries His Best, Xadia, duren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21546487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avatar_Vyakara/pseuds/Avatar_Vyakara
Summary: "The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it."–J.M. BarrieThe story of everyone's (least) favourite Dark Mage, from the sorcerers' caravans to (his aspirations towards) the throne of Katolis.NOTE: chapter updated
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Original Character/Original Character, Viren/Viren's Wife (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Archetypes and Abominations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564015
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	1. Give or Take (A Baby or Two)

_Everyone_ knew that the Mages were child-snatchers. The Mages themselves, if ever pressed on the issue (and you'd have to be very, very brave or very, very stupid to try it), argued for mitigating circumstances.

Look at it like this, they might say. There's ample opportunity for the _creation_ of babies across the Five Kingdoms; put two people together in a room for long enough and they'll at least make an attempt. But there are too many times where people, for one reason or another, aren't particularly happy about _keeping_ the babies. Maybe the parents just couldn't afford a child at the moment. Maybe the child comes from someone who has other children by other (more legally-binding) means. Maybe one of the parents didn't much care about the outcome, just about the pleasure, regardless of how their counterpart felt. Maybe the child wasn't meant to be conceived at all.

And while there was the possibility that the Mages could get there on time and administer a spell of a more _permanent_ nature, should the mother require it, a lot of the time the...unwelcome child, let's put it so, deserved a chance at life once they got there. All things strive, as the old saying goes. The Mages were particularly aware of this fact.

So the great caravans of the Mages, passing from one town to another as they trundled across the Five Kingdoms in ancient and respectable fashion,(1) would go into the markets and peddle their wares and skills and stay _just_ long enough for a woman or man, carrying a little bundle and a burning desperation, to visit them discreetly in the middle of the night. Often it was just a basket left at the door of the caravan. Sometimes even accepted methods are too shameful. And they'd take the child inside, every single time, because that was only fair.

And then they'd leave.

A few people had tried to run them out of town by claiming their babies had been stolen by the Mages, but nobody was going to get _that_ to stick. Once you gave something to the Mages, you had to expect not to see it again–especially, people muttered darkly, if it had been alive when you gave it over. But they never stole, not anything, not even as practice. They made that reputation stick. So the Mages kept working and travelling, and the nastier sort of parents threatened their children with being sold to the caravans if they misbehaved.

What happened to the babies, you ask?

Often, not much at all, relatively speaking. In places like Neolandia or Katolis, the babies were frequently passed on to those who sought one themselves but for one reason or another couldn't quite succeed the organic way. The boating guilds of Evenere were always happy to take on new apprentices, no matter the age. Even in Del Bar and Duren, where the bloodlines ran strong and people had been breeding themselves to pedigree perfection for generations, there was always the army, or the mines, or the fields. Not the best life for a child, really, but any life would be better than death.

But for the very few who, for one reason or another, stayed a year and a day with the caravans, they were accepted into the great lines of the Seventh Path, followers of the First. And seven years after they came into the lives of the Mages, they would be given their first spell, their first taste of the magic that the uninitiated called Dark.

And that was how it had been for three hundred years.

Until one day...

(1) But not necessarily _respected_. Slapping a sign saying "May Contain Nuts" on a glass of orange juice does not mean someone is going to slam-dunk pistachios in there to make sure.

* * *

_April 11th, 47 BR (Before the Return of_ Azymondias _)_

_The Forest of Lehavah, Duren_

"An accident, that's all he was," said Kanta, as disdainfully as she could. Durenite women cried at the deaths of their wives, or their mothers, or their daughters. They did not– _would not_ –cry for sons.

Justice _condemn_ this mage, for looking like she didn't believe her.

"Then an accident he was," said the mage, whose name was Gauri. They were sitting inside her wheeled house, on a rainy evening. "But you should not be held to blame for an accident, now should you?"

"He got me drunk, that perverted peasant! He made me actually think he cared about me. And then he left."

"Didn't want to broach the subject of a Match with his husband, then?" said Gauri sympathetically. For some reason the words–no, the _way_ they were said, kind and understanding–made Kanta's skin crawl.

"Hah! What husband? He wasn't even Durenite, just breeding stock from the south somewhere. And now I risk disgrace unless you help me." She added a little more fire to her words, like Oksana sometimes liked to hear when they were in bed. "As you are bound to do, as a servant of humanity."

"Ah," said Gauri, smiling peacefully and raising her hands in mock surrender. "You remind me of my duties, my lady. The babe is to be taken elsewhere, then? To his father's homelands, perhaps, in Del Bar?"

"No," snapped Kanta. " _That_ man is not to know of this child." _Not when so much is at stake._

"Ah," said the Mage again, pleasantly. "I trust the Governing Queen is in good health?"

"Do not speak of such things as you cannot hope to understand."

_We stand so close now, Oksana and I. Queen Margita was never all that bright, and the death of her wife has brought her to great grief. The country needs a new leader, one who will make strong decisions. And I will not allow this wretched child to get in the way of that. Not when I could have Match-made children on the throne._

"Then perhaps you would prefer that I keep him away from such things?"

"Yes!" Relief poured in. "Yes! Take the child away, far away. Keep him beyond the reach of any who might find him and use him."

The Dark Mage smiled. A flash of lightning lit up the cabin, and suddenly her face looked _burnt_ somehow, the skin melting away and the hair bone-white and the eyes black as night–and then it was over.

"You would give me this child? Freely and with no conditions? I do not say no regrets, because you will regret it, in your own time."

"Do not presume to tell me my own mind, sorceress," growled Kanta. "You will take the child. I give him to you freely. Do what you will with him."

"Then we have a pact," said the witch, smoothly.

Kanta spared barely a glance at the bundle in her arms. This, this _thing_ she had carefully hidden from her wife for thirteen months, was finally going away. She would not risk their futures for him. She would not have to.

When the wretched woman handed over the baby, Gauri's first instincts had been to claw her eyes out. The _sha_ -jackal she had Consumed while in Neolandia had raged within her, the owls had screeched, even the thousands of butterflies, who had about as much parental instinct as cabbages, had fluttered in silent rage. For a parent to give up their child in desperation or fear...that she could understand. She had raised three like that, made sure three dozen more had reached good homes. But out of _pride_? Out of _plotting_?

Better that she take the babe, for fear of what the Duchess would do to it otherwise.

And then she had actually held the child, and everything went silent.

Small and squidgy. A tuft of golden-brown hair over a face of alabaster skin–there was his southern heritage showing, likely from the clans around Del Bar. And then his eyes opened, opened wide, and two small worlds of green-grey looked back at her, wide and...understanding? And then he smiled, innocent, guileless, and she smiled back at him, grin toothy and ecstatic.

Such a brave boy.

 _This_ one, she would keep for herself. Her fourth child, her second son.

She looked now at Duchess Kanta with her other eyes. Her _sha_ -jackal roared. The owls lit up her eyes. The beehive she had taken within herself–ah, the things you do when you're sixteen and utterly stupid–buzzed angrily. _Keep away_.

"Then we have a pact," she repeated. "And I will see to his destiny."

"What destiny?" scoffed Kanta.

" _Do not speak of such things as you cannot hope to understand._ "

The Duchess left the woods shortly afterwards. Gauri didn't bother lighting her way.

Not when there was a little baby nestled in her arms, shrieking with laughter as she made illusions of butterflies fly around his head, while she watched with burnt face and coal-black eyes and a weary, cheery smile.


	2. The Mirrored Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Gauri adjusts to life with her new baby, an old friend comes back into the picture.

_April 12th, 46 BR (Before the Return of Azymondias)  
_ _Sag Taab, Del Bar_

" _Who did you steal it from?_ "

So naturally these _idiots_ thought that a middle-aged woman who already had a baby was out to snatch more from local cradles. Figures.

"I already _told_ you," Gauri sighed, more annoyed than anything else. She'd come by this town before, in the old days, when she was called the Dancing Mage. Sag Taab was perched on a crag in the middle of nowhere, but it was the largest town perched on a crag in the middle of nowhere in this part of Del Bar. And the April Market, when the mountain snows were almost all gone, was one of the nicest times to be around. She'd wanted something special, in any case. The boy was almost of the right age, after all.

She'd chosen a name for him, but it was bad luck to think of such things before the Time had come and he would be rightfully hers.

It had been a nice day at the market, and the boy had loved it, the Moor Dancers and the brightly-coloured stalls and the haunting, echoing music of the bards.

Until in the early afternoon someone had twitched aside her heavy cloak and seen her dress and rod.

"The baby is my own," she growled. Close enough to it, anyway. Two more days, that's all.

The guard laughed harshly, and kept his spear pointed where it was. "You think I'm a fool? Mages can't have children of their own. It'd be a travesty of nature."

"Paragons wept, who's writing the sermons these days?" she sneered. There was a gasp from the growing crowd around them.

The female guard slapped her across the face. Gauri didn't budge. "Shut up, monster," she hissed.

"I'll ask you again," said the male guard. "Who did you steal the baby from?"

"The Governing Queen of Duren," snarked Gauri. "But you know I'm not allowed to tell you that, of course."

And then the female guard had been stupid. Life-threateningly stupid. She'd punched Gauri in the gut, but more importantly, _she'd snatched the boy_.

"We'll just have to find his parents ourselves," she began--

\--and Gauri reached into her pocket and crushed one of the fresh rock salamander eggs she'd come to find--

\--" _Seye ruoy erofeb sraef tsrow ruoy_ ," she roared--

\--a deep blue smoke, tinted with black and green, blew out of her hands--

\--and now the guards were screaming in absolute terror at whatever their private nightmares were, and the woman dropped the baby--

\--whom she caught easily.

Great. And now they'd made him cry. Ignorant imbeciles.

She turned her baleful black stare towards the crowd, glaring with eyes darker than night, with a face marked by terrible decay. None of them moved a _muscle_.

"Anyone object to my departure?" she snarled. Still nobody so much as twitched.

Trying to walk fast and soothe the baby at the same time, she walked out through the gathered group of now-petrified people, literally quaking in their boots. Oh, bother, she'd let it run downwind. This was going to be hell to explain when she next met someone from The Profession...

At least the boy was unharmed. And now he was cooing softly. He'd always liked her Magic eyes. A smile twitched across her lips.

At least it wasn't as bad as the last town. They hadn't even allowed her to sell her wares, just threw stones at her caravan until she moved off. Quite large stones too. Thank Wisdom none of the stones had hit the baby. Gauri didn't think she'd have been able to hold back her internal menagerie if they had, and that sort of thing got you into trouble.

And she'd gotten her salamander eggs, and provisions for the next leg of the Journey, in exchange for granting a blessing of Speed to some builders so they go watch the Moorland Dancers. Although, come to think of it, maybe they'd reported her. Ah, well. Such was the Seventh Path.

As it was, she herself was feeling a bit battered by today's events, and she needed to get stop somewhere before making the trek back into the forests to her caravan. Not to mention the boy was looking uncomfortable now the colours and music had gone. Now, come on, it should be around here somewhere...

There! The one place nobody would dare attack anyone in. Even if the sloped roof and bell-tower hadn't given it away, the six statues arranged in front of the building marked it as a House of Paragons, in the Del Barric style. Fifth Century, wasn't it? Muktamaya would have known. Of all the break-aways from people she'd had in her life, she most deeply regretted losing her third child. Then again, she'd thought that was how it was with Pran and Ishani as well. And her parents. And--

"I don't suppose you'd actually like to come inside?"

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, Mercy spare her and Charity pity her, why him?

She groaned. But the baby was mewling, and she needed to get him out of the chilled April air.

"Figures it'd be you," she said, rolling her eyes. She doubted he'd see it like that, they were probably still black if her hands were anything to go by.

"Hello to you too, Gauri," said Ahren, pleasantly. "Long time no see." He bowed slightly, with that slightly theatrical twirl that she'd never quite been able to work out how she felt about. "Radiance has been as kind as ever, I see."

"Cut the comedy, Ahren," she snapped. And then paused. "Hang on, are you actually wearing a _cassock_?"

Ahren actually looked embarrassed. "Well--"

"You _are_! You are actually wearing a _cassock_!" Gauri shuffled her feet on the rug inside to clean off her shoes, then held up the boy to her face. "Isn't that right, little one? The big silly man's actually wearing a cassock!"

"And _you're_ carrying a baby again," he replied. "I thought you'd given that up."

Right, that reminded her. "So you're the one who's been passing around that evil old story?" she asked, glaring at him properly. Annoyingly she was getting rather mixed reactions from her animal ghosts. The rabbits in particular were being very…forward.

But Ahren looked tired. "Not me. I'm here on consulting business. But...let's just say I have competition."

"Consulting business?" Then she remembered that the last time they'd met, round about fifteen years ago, he'd been talking about joining the gap between magic and religion again. She'd wished him luck at the time, privately thinking he'd have a better success rate turning the River Velt into mead.

"Indeed so!" And he bowed again. "For whom you see before you, my lady, is a Sapientiar of the highest rank!"

Gauri had to laugh, and the little one laughed as well. The baby always liked her laugh. He seemed to be able to hear the animals in it. "You're a _Sapientar_ now? A priest of Wisdom? Who'd you get to anoint you?"

Ahren shrugged, and beckoned her further inside. "As it turns out the priest here is a mutual friend of ours. Remember Hyracian? That kid I took on for a while after his dad kicked him out of the house?"

"Wait, wait wait wait... _Badger_? You're telling me your Badger's here? And a Priest of Paragons?"

"Not just that," Ahren went on, grinning. "He's gotten himself a cushy job with the old Lord of Paragons up near Khung Yang castle. Might even make the _next_ Lord. Imagine that! A Mage's Son, made into a lord! Hasn't happened in hundreds of years, that."

"Not since the Wars, no..."

"So anyway, he said that he'd been given free reign over this place and I was happy to stay any time I wanted. Officially anointed me as a Knight of Wisdom, too. Looks like he put that book-learning of his to some use."

"You've got to give for what you get," agreed Gauri. "Otherwise you won't get to receive when you take."

"Mm," nodded Ahren.

The nave of this House was long and narrow, with pews along the sides instead of the luxuriant personal carpets they had in the north. The artist had done a pretty good job on the windows, though. Pran would have appreciated that. Now, who was worshipped here?

Oh, yes. There was Courage, right behind the altar, with his battle-axe and lion pelt and bared breast. Flanking him were Honour and Radiance on his right and left, because the Dellings were subtle like that. Then Freedom and Justice, and then Love and--

"Nice, isn't it," said Ahren. "They actually keep to old tradition here. Someone tried to put up a statue at one point, but the locals were apparently rather annoyed. Looked too much like an elf, they said."

But there was no statue in Wisdom's place. Instead, just as was the case in the alcove of every Mage's caravan, there was a mirror.

"So where's the Virtutiar? It's a House of Courage with no priest to His name?"

"Old Camelopardian stays up at the castle most of the time," shrugged Ahren. "Drinking with the baron, mainly." Now he hesitated. "You still remember the protocol?"

"You never were bothered about prayer, Ahren, back when we knew each other," said Gauri, surprised.

"I do have a slightly different occupation now, Gaur," he replied, gesturing at his cassock.

"You always said that if Wisdom was going to come to us he'd come in flashes of inspiration, not while trying to stave off boredom." She grinned. "Or when a person was feeling like the world had moved. You were very keen on that, I remember."

"A lot's changed in fifteen years, Gauri," he said. "Flashes are all well and good, but if it's that or peace then it's got to be peace. Too many people have been lost for that."

And that stopped her in her tracks, and for the first time Gauri actually looked him over.

He was shorter and fatter than he'd been in her day, even if you could still see a bit of muscle on the side--he'd never been that tall to begin with, unusual for someone from Eastern Katolis. Grey hair had begun to pepper the sides of his head and his short, thin beard; less and less of it covered the top. His eyes were still the same, a warm brown like a log on a fire, crinkled around the edges where he'd been smiling.

But it was his stance that she noticed the most now. Fifteen years ago Ahren had been tensed up all the time, muscles bunched as if ready to fly--or fight--at a moment's notice. And oh, how they'd fought, but they'd also flown in so many ways. And now...now he was still tensed up, but it was a different tension. As if he expected to be struck down again and again, and had resigned himself to it.

"Ahr...what happened to you?" she asked, quietly.

He smiled, sadly. "It's a long story," he said.

"At our age, there's nothing _but_ long stories," she retorted, and he chuckled at that.

"Tell you what," he said, "you and I pray, and then if you're still willing I'll tell you. And in exchange you tell me where you got"--he nodded at the boy--"this young one. Fair?"

She nodded. "Fair. But I go first. And you hold him. And do you have a caterpillar around? I think I used too much energy up at the market."

Ahren nodded, and went off to the side.

 _Viren_. It was a good name. It could even have been a noble name. And here in this House of Paragons, with the virtues of humanity watching over her boy, she felt she owed him that much.

Ahren came back with a small cage.

"No caterpillars," he said, "but I always keep a beetle-spider around. They keep out the wasp-scorps."

Gauri took one graciously, crushed it gently, let the magic flow out and into her body. The baby squealed as if tickled, looking just a little bit healthier.

(And so what? A little dirt was good for a growing child, they said. Better that the dirt actually made you healthier, too.)

And her hands, at least, were back to normal.

Then Ahren, who'd been staring, turned to the altar and pulled out two candle stubs, which he hooked onto the silver side of the mirror. The baby looked...a bit disconcerted by the mirror, actually, almost spooked. She'd have to wean him out of that. Gently she nuzzled him and gave him to Ahren, who immediately started making cooing noises. Gauri rolled her eyes, took off her cloak, put aside her rod, and snapped her fingers over the candle, lighting it.

There was never a statue of Wisdom, because Wisdom didn't mean intelligence or knowledge per se. Wisdom never had any attributes that could be marked by symbols, like the other Paragons. Wisdom was being able to see yourself, _know_ yourself, for all your strengths and limitations, your fears and memories, and learning to be content--or else striving to improve.

So there she was, reflected in this holy place, humanity a placeholder for divinity. Streaks of purest white in her long black hair--but of course that didn't matter as much now that she was middle-aged and the white mingled with grey. Dark green eyes staring out of a rounded face, with a slightly crooked nose. Fine fabrics, because a Mage wore as good as they could get, but a simple pattern of silver lines on brown, nothing like Durenite or Del Barric ostentatiousness. And a smile that she'd always been proud of.

Turmoil beneath, because no Mage could let animal souls run through their bodies without being affected, but it was easier these days to hold them back. No. Over the past year she hadn't been holding them back, they'd all been working _together_ , like they hadn't in so many years.

And she looked into those green eyes, and they smiled back at her, and at the reflection of the baby and Ahren, who had conjured a sparkling mass that made funny noises and changed colour whenever the baby swiped at it. Delighted, her boy shrieked with laughter, and, content that he was alright, Gauri knelt before herself and prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of Paragons--human virtues replacing full-on gods--is inspired by "Peace is a Journey" by the marvellously talented Spontaneite. Go check it out if you haven't already.  
> Well, that's another new character, a possible father-figure for Baby Viren, and a touch more about my theories on Dark Magic. Any preference for the next chapter?

**Author's Note:**

> So...yeah. Viren, I thought, had so very much potential for good during the Dragon Prince, but they went ahead and cut out all or most of the ambiguity on that scale, which frankly is rather annoying. So, to satiate my desire that things be set right, I'll try and fix it up myself–within the bounds of canon, as far as it can go. Seem fair, lads and lasses and all those between?


End file.
